Fighter

[01 : Company]

The floors of the orphanage groaned with each step Ivan took, hardly suppressing their irritation. It was late. Far too late for any orphan to be out of bed, much less three. Yet here they found themselves, creeping behind the shadows that loomed over them, offering them support as they slunk past the endless doors.

Ivan, Anya, and little Jordan. Ivan hadn't expected to make friends in a place he didn't call home. It was supposed to be just him and Anya, leaving the pathetic orphanage behind them, starting fresh. Starting the way they wanted to. Somehow, Jordan, the sweet kid they were, was thrown into this mess.

Right. That was how.

That one day, when the wind's whistling hummed an eerie tune, Jordan's back pressed against the fence of the large courtyard, the group of bigger orphans all stepping in while Jordan could hardly breathe. Ivan couldn't recall what they were saying. Something dumb. Something about the fact that Jordan couldn't put a label on how they identified.

That wasn't why Ivan's blood reached a boil. He couldn't care less what Jordan or any of those orphans did with their lives. It was the fact that those kids saw an easy opportunity and took advantage of it.

Ivan wasn't a saint by any means, but he had morals.

He could remember vividly the screams he got out of those kids when their blood painted his fist. That was the first time he broke some kid's nose. It wouldn't be the last.

He could remember vividly the way Jordan sobbed and thanked him, over and over until Ivan whacked the back of their head, just to get them to shut up. They did that. They didn't stop hugging Ivan. They didn't stop following him around, their eyes practically glimmering whenever Ivan noticed. Like a lost puppy. The thought annoyed Ivan at the time. Now it made him feel something stranger. Pity he believed.

Maybe that was the reason, when Jordan came to him and Anya, begging for them not to leave... Maybe that was the reason Ivan told them to pack their bag.

With each complaint from the floorboards below them, Ivan cringed. They'd be dead before they even got out. And judging the way Jordan's breath hitched every time Ivan paused, the way Anya's soft whispers for them ceased, they were thinking the same.

"Jordan," Ivan mumbled under his breath. It was dark. Too dark for that ten-year-old to be out, running away with the older kids when they were afraid of their own damn shadow. But they were already here. Ivan promised himself he'd protect them, as long as they were under his care.

And as of now, they were.

He set his hand out, almost blindly in the darkness. Finally, he felt the smaller one lie in his palm. One hand with him, one hand with Anya. Jordan would be okay. They must have understood what Ivan was trying to prove, as their soft sobbing quieted until only the occasional hiccup slipped past.

The floor had provided them mercy now, its discontent groans finally softening to only occasional hums. The door was ahead. Just a few more steps. Just barely out of reach. Just a little bit closer.

"What are you three doing out of bed?"

No. Inches from the door, from leaving this damned place, inches from freedom. And yet, suddenly, it seemed so out of reach. Ivan could see the handle, slipping past his fingertips, replaced by the dim light of the lantern in the Caregiver's hand.

He could feel Jordan's trembling; they wanted to run. And what about Anya? Ivan was sure she'd frozen up. So it was Ivan, the only one left to try and get out of the nightmare this dream had so harshly become.

"I felt sick." He meant to sound confident in himself. Instead, all that came out was a weak croak. "I was going to see the nurse."

"I'm sure you were," the Caregiver cooed, and Ivan caught the glint in her eye. That glint he always saw when the Caregivers knew: I caught him.

"All three of you felt sick?" She asked, waving her lantern towards Jordan and Anya. Jordan's puffy red eyes, the tears rolling past his trembling lips. Anya's pale face, eyes so wide she didn't look as though she'd seen a ghost, it looked as though she was the ghost.

She waved her lantern, lingering on them all. Lingering on their bags. "Oh, and what's this? You weren't planning to spend the night with the nurse, were you?"

Ivan squeezed Jordan's hand, hoping they'd notice, praying they'd look up and give Anya his silent message, but all he got in turn was a chilled silence. Hell, it was louder than any of the kids he'd met in the orphanage.

"Now, you three look petrified!" The Caregiver's cracked lips curled into a mocking smile and Jordan seemed to shrink. They didn't get the chance to. The Caregiver grabbed their arm, pulling them out of Ivan and Anya's grasp and despite himself, Ivan gasped.

"Ten," the Caregiver hummed as Jordan's body stiffened. She pointed between Anya and Ivan, slowly. "And thirteen. Much too young to be running away, aren't we?"

Ivan couldn't hear the rest of what she was saying. The ringing in his ears was far too loud. The ringing, buzzing, trying to tell him something. Trying to give him a way out, and yet...

His eyes stopped their sloppy sweep of the orphanage, slowly settling on the window. It was risky, but enough to get out, enough to create a mess, a diversion...

Ivan told Anya and Jordan he'd get them their freedom. He told them they'd be safe, so long as they were with him, so long as they listened. He promised he'd protect them. He promised he'd get them out.

No, Ivan wasn't a saint by any means, but he had morals.

He grabbed Jordan's arm, breaking it recklessly from that damn witch's grasp, his stomach churning at the sound of Jordan's pained cry.

"Anya!" He screamed, and on cue, she snapped from of her horrified daze and hauled Jordan into her arms as Ivan shoved them towards her. The Caregiver dropped her lantern in her surprise, the shadows once concealing them so courteously now thrashing against the wall in a haphazard craze.

And as that Caregiver screamed for the three to come back, Ivan threw his bag against the window, jumping through it before it could finish shattering, the shards slicing into his body and pulling out warm beads of crimson liquid. But for now, he could deal with the pain.

Within moments, Anya was out behind him, Jordan tucked away against her body, spared from most of the damage they could've felt.

The bag on his shoulder already, Ivan grabbed her sleeve, pulling her along as his legs burned and the Caregivers, all awake, shrieked at them.

The door flew open, but the three were already halfway down the courtyard by the time those old hags finally got through.

He threw his bag over the fence, slinging over Anya's as the shouting and yelling grew closer, nearer. And yet, not close enough.

Anya was already on the other side, leaving Jordan in Ivan's arms, who hid away in his chest, latching on like a desperate koala.

"I promised I'd keep you two safe, didn't I?" Ivan growled, wrapping his fingers around the fence and hauling himself up. Higher he climbed, higher, the Caregivers and their voices fading with sheer shock before finally, he jumped over it, falling on the ground behind with a pained hiss. "I'm a man of my word."

Jordan in Ivan's arms, all of their bags with Anya, they ran down the dimly lit sidewalk with bloodied bodies and a plethora of hope. No matter how bad their bodies ached, how scared they were for what the unknown held, it didn't matter.

They were free.